Chapter 37 Mara
THIRTY-SEVEN
MARA
They’ve been gone for forty-seven minutes.
Forty-seven minutes since Dredyn’s voice came through the comm. “Breaching now.”
Forty-seven minutes since the line went silent.
I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of the escape vehicle, door open, one foot on the pavement. Ready to run. Ready to drive. Ready to do whatever needs doing.
Except wait.
I’m terrible at waiting.
Rook leans against the hood. “They’re fine. No news is good news.”
“No news is terrifying.” I check my phone for the hundredth time. Nothing. No texts, no calls, just the police scanner app Rook installed, crackling with chatter.
“—multiple units responding to structure fire, Greek Row—”
“—OCK house fully engulfed, requesting additional support—”
“—reports of gunshots heard on campus, unable to confirm location—”
“—evacuating surrounding buildings as precaution—”
The fire worked. Campus security is stretched thin, emergency services occupied. Everything went according to plan.
So why aren’t they back yet?
“The plan was thirty minutes. It’s been forty-seven.”
Rook checks his own phone. “Plans change, especially in combat situations. CJ hasn’t called an extraction abort. That means they’re still operational.”
“Or it means they’re dead and CJ doesn’t know yet.”
“Mara—”
“Don’t. Don’t tell me not to think like that. The three men I love just walked into an underground chamber to commit murder. Thinking the worst isn’t pessimism, it’s realism.”
Rook’s quiet for a moment. “You really love all three of them?”
“Yes.”
“Equally?”
“Differently … but yes.” I look at him, challenging him to judge me. “Does that bother you?”
“Nah. I’ve seen weirder relationship configurations at frat parties. Just making conversation—keeping you distracted.”
“I appreciate the effort. It’s not working.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
The scanner crackles again.
“—fire marshal on scene, investigating origin—”
“—witnesses report seeing three individuals fleeing east on foot—”
My heart stops. “East? We’re west of campus.”
Rook’s response comes immediately, calm and certain. “Misdirection. Probably CJ feeding false intel. Calm down.”
But my hands are shaking. I grip the steering wheel to steady them.
Fifty-two minutes.
I need noise, something other than the spiraling thoughts telling me they’re not coming back, that I’m going to spend the rest of my life wondering how they died—if they thought of me in their last moments.
“Talk to me. About anything. I need … I need noise. Something other than my own thoughts.”
Rook considers, then grins. “Okay. Truth or dare?”
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious. Come on. Truth or dare?”
“We’re not twelve—”
“Truth or dare, Mara.”
I sigh. “Truth.”
“If you could go back to the penthouse, before all this started, knowing what you know now, would you still choose them? Knowing it leads here?”
The answer comes without hesitation. “Yes.”
“Even though you’re sitting in a parking lot, waiting to find out if the men you love are alive or dead? Even though you’ll spend the rest of your life running?”
“Yes, even then. Because whatever time I get with them—even if it’s cut short tonight—is better than a lifetime in that penthouse. Better than being my father’s perfect daughter, marrying whoever he chose, and living someone else’s life.”
Rook nods slowly. “That’s… actually pretty profound.”
“I have my moments.”
The clock ticks to fifty-six minutes. I check it compulsively, like watching it will make them appear faster.
“Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why are you helping us? Really. You could walk away, stay out of it. Why risk yourself for this?”
Rook’s quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is softer than before.
“Because Dredyn saved my ass sophomore year. There was hazing shit—bad shit. The kind that crosses lines. I was going to drop out, maybe worse. But Dredyn found me in the basement at two a.m., talked me down, and got the brothers responsible kicked out. I owe him. And besides, what kind of brother would I be if I let him face this alone?”
“You’re a good man, Rook.”
He checks his phone again, and something in his expression shifts. “CJ just sent coordinates for the next checkpoint. That’s good. Means the plan’s still moving forward.”
“Or it means CJ’s operating on autopilot and doesn’t know they’re—”
“Mara. Breathe.”
I try. It doesn’t help.
Fifty-nine minutes.
The scanner continues its steady stream of information.
“—fire under control, investigating suspicious origin—”
“—campus lockdown lifted, students returning to dorms—”
“—no confirmation on reported gunshots, likely fireworks or vehicle backfire—”
One hour.
They should be back by now. Should have extracted, gotten clear, and made it to the rally point. Unless something went wrong. Unless they’re trapped in those tunnels. Unless they’re injured. Unless they’re—
“Headlights. Two o’clock.”
I turn to find a vehicle approaching—dark sedan, headlights off until it’s close. It pulls into the lot, before parking three spaces away.
My hand goes to the gun in the center console. Rook’s already moved into position, weapon concealed but accessible.
The car door opens.
Beck and CJ step out, hands visible, moving slowly so we can see they aren’t a threat. “Easy. It’s us.”
I lower the gun but don’t put it away. “Where are they?”
“Inbound. ETA, three minutes.”
He moves to our vehicle and starts transferring supplies from his trunk to ours. Medical kit, bottles of water, what looks like stacks of cash and documents.
“Anthony Thorne came through. There’s a private jet waiting at a regional airfield, ninety miles west. New identities, offshore accounts, everything you need.”
“Anthony Thorne? Jasper’s father?”
“Apparently Jasper contacted him two days ago—told him everything. Anthony didn’t believe it at first, but when the OCK fire hit the news and reports of gunshots started coming through…”
“He made some calls—called in favors. He’s getting you out of the country.”
“Why would he help us?”
“Because his daughter was murdered by the same organization. Because his son is one of the people fighting back. Because—” CJ stops mid-sentence, head cocked. “They’re here.”
Three figures emerge from the darkness between buildings.
Dredyn, Jasper, and between them, supported with arms over their shoulders, Talon.
My heart stops.
They’re covered in blood—dark stains on their clothes, their faces, their hands. In the dim light, I can’t tell whose blood it is, can’t tell who’s injured. Then I see Talon’s left shoulder—the way he’s holding it, the way blood seeps through the tactical vest, dark and wet.
“Oh God.”
I’m out of the car before I realize I’m moving, crossing the distance in seconds.
“Talon!”
He looks up, manages a weak smile despite the pain etched into every line of his face. “Hey, Princess. Miss me?”
“You’re shot—”
“Just a flesh wound… mostly.” His voice is strained.
CJ’s already moving to help, taking Talon’s weight from Jasper. “Get him in the car; we need to move. Campus security will start expanding their search perimeter any minute.”
Dredyn and Jasper maneuver Talon into the back seat. He hisses in pain when his shoulder jostles against the doorframe. I climb in beside him, hands hovering, not knowing where to touch without causing more damage.
“How bad is it?” I ask, looking at Dredyn.
“Through and through. Missed the major vessels. He’ll live if we get him proper medical care.”
“If? What do you mean if?”
“We can’t go to a hospital. A gunshot wound means police reports—questions we can’t answer.”
“Beck arranged a doctor to meet us at the safe house.”
“The safe house is forty minutes from here. He can hold out that long if we stop the bleeding.”
Jasper’s already using new gauze over the wound. Talon grits his teeth but doesn’t make a sound.
I take his hand. “Did you get them? Did it work?”
Dredyn’s standing outside the car, hand on the roof, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. When he does, his voice is flat.
“One out of three. James’s dead. Edmund and Marcus escaped.”
“So, they’re still out there. Still hunting us.”
Dredyn finally meets my eyes. “Yes. We wounded the Syndicate—cut off one head, but two remain. And now they know exactly who we are and what we’re capable of.”
Rook appears at Dredyn’s shoulder. “Then we stick to the plan. Get you all out of the country, let things cool down, and figure out the next move from a distance.”
“There won’t be a next move for us. We’re done. Someone else can finish what we started.”
“Dredyn—” I start.
He cuts me off. “No. We tried. We killed one—that’s more than anyone else has managed.
But we’re not soldiers, we’re not assassins.
We’re college kids who got in over our heads, and Talon almost died because of it.
” His hand clenches on the car roof. “I’m not risking any of you again.
Not for revenge, not for justice, not for anything.
We get out, we stay out. That’s the deal. ”
Jasper finishes bandaging Talon’s shoulder. “He says we did what we came to do—we fought back. That matters, even if it’s not finished.”
“Does it? Does it matter if we spend the rest of our lives running? If Edmund and the stranger rebuild? If the Syndicate continues?”
“It matters that we’re alive.”
CJ clears his throat. “Hate to interrupt the philosophical debate, but we really need to move. I’m getting reports of security checkpoints being established. We have maybe a ten-minute window before this gets complicated.”
Rook steps forward. “This is where I leave you. I’ll stay, talk to campus security, tell them I saw three guys heading east toward the highway. Buy you time to get west.”
“Rook—” Dredyn starts.
“No arguments. You three saved my life once. It’s time I returned the favor.” He pauses. “Besides, I’m not the one they want. I’m just a brother who helped some friends move some furniture. Nothing suspicious about that.”
Dredyn pulls him into a brief, fierce hug. “Thank you.”